Heather is Here. Or is she?

Last night I had to sleep in a recliner. So when I got up at 7 AM feeling like a truck had hit me I crawled into an empty bed and fell back asleep. Usually that causes me to have lucid dreams.  This time I dreamed I lived in a giant clean house. My boyfriend was there fiddling with a thermostat looking thing on the wall. Suddenly the whole house started to rotate, which freaked me out. I kept asking him what he was doing. Then when I got up, each window had a different view than before, which left me feeling disoriented. I walked into a giant sunken living room attached to a higher dining area.  At the table was my little girl Heather. She was about 6 or 7. She was making an art project. I was so happy I kept saying, "Heather is here. Heather is here." I swear I said it so loud, I must have been talking in my sleep. I kept asking myself if she was real. And my mind would answer, "Of course she is real; she is standing right there'. She got up and started to walk over to me. Her blond hair was back-lit by the sun and she had a big smile on her face.

The I woke up and realized it was just a dream. I was sad that she wasn't really here. In fact she turned 31 yesterday, and has two kids of her own and lives far away. I just talked to her on the phone last night and she was very happy.

My daughter holding my grandson.

Bittersweet Memories

Today it was an eye opener to unpack a box that has been in storage for 14 years. So many bittersweet memories. Photos from before the divorce. Photos of pets no longer with us. Photos of pets I don't even remember having. When did we have a rabbit named Daffodil? Maybe it was a friend's rabbit.  Lots of news clippings and advertisements from when I worked as a psychic, a belly dancer, and other things.  Photos of a Renaissance Faire I danced at. Where did the life go that I once had?


Lots of mail art, both received and meant to be sent. Letters to a guy that broke my heart. Tons of jewelry from my dancing days. Stickers and stationary and old make-up. A letter from an old friend who has the same name as my grandson. Goals realized and unrealized.

People wonder why I don't go through all my boxes and get things squared away.  I don't go through them because it's heart wrenching. I still feel angry and hurt when my boyfriend's Mom said, "We'll just send Dick over there (her husband). He'll throw everything away." How callous. No one but me can decide what is important to me and worth saving. Would he even know what to do with a tarot deck? Would he know which photos were of my child's first steps or their 5th birthday party? Would he know a valuable piece of jewelry from a sentimental one and which one had more value? He's got Alzheimer's. He barely even knows where he lives so it was asinine for her to suggest sending him over. And why is she so concerned with my stuff? Hasn't she got enough to worry about taking care of him 24/7. I'm not married and I don't need a nagging mother-in-law.

A mermaid ring I found in storage.

Postoids from a long ago mail art project.